Jimmy's Lass
by theoofoof
Summary: Set after 4x09 and inspired by the name of the dog that Harry's backs when he and Adam take Wes to the track. Harry POV. H/R oneshot


**Title: **Jimmy's Lass  
**Fandom: **Spooks  
**Characters/Pairings: **Harry/Ruth  
**Rating: **T**  
Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Set after 4x09 and inspired by the name of the dog that Harry's backs when he and Adam take Wes to the track. Harry POV. H/R

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Spooks or any of the characters or dialogue you may recognise. They all belong to Kudos/BBC.

**A/N:** Even as I post this, I'm unsure about it. The idea and first 1000 words came to me when I was taking some pretty strong painkillers for lower back pain, so I worry that the drugs have had an effect on my writing. lol. Also, I have drawn on both entries in Harry's Diary and on comments made on DVD commentaries to help me get a hint of Harry's thoughts. I hope you enjoy. Please leave a review if you can spare the time.

* * *

_Harry's POV_

Adam is kind enough to drop me at Thames House on his way home. I get out of the car and bid Adam farewell, asking him to pass on my goodbyes to his son who is currently asleep on the back seat, before heading back to the Grid. It's been a nice evening; I'd forgotten what it was like to spend time around any children, and has served to show me that I didn't do enough with my own two. I like Wes; he's a sweet kid, knows how to pick a winning dog too. He was a bit unsure at first, so I talked him through it and showed him by picking the dog myself, and after that he was a natural. The dog I chose was Jimmy's Lass. Now, I could stand here and say that it was just a random choice but I'd be lying and, as much as I lie for a living, I don't like lying to myself.

The name jumped out at me as soon as I saw it but I didn't realise its significance at first; I just knew I had to bet on it. It was only later, when Adam asked me which dog I'd picked and I found myself unable to articulate that it hit me.

Jimmy. Short for James. So technically my dog was called, 'James' Lass'. Ruth's father is called James. I'd unconsciously picked a dog that could have been called Ruth. It didn't escape my notice either that I may have been referring to myself as the 'Jimmy' in question; it is my middle name after all.

Ever since Tom's decommissioning I have found myself growing closer to Ruth; taking her into my confidence more and more, but it was only after Clive's death that I began to admit to myself I felt more than just professional courtesy towards her. When she'd been contacted by her old 'friend', Gary and had been put in danger from Woodring's men, I felt an overwhelming need to protect her; to have her safe. It was deeper than what I felt when any of my other officers were in danger. In fact, the last time I'd felt this way was when Catherine had taken herself off to Iraq back in 2003, just before we invaded, as part of an anti-war demonstration who were prepared to act as human shields. Luckily, both cases have had a happy ending; Catherine was rescued by Tom and Ruth by Jo.

Once I'd realised that my feelings went deeper than those of a colleague, it didn't take long for them to increase ten-fold. I can now say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I love her. She is amazing; both personally and professionally.

She's been brilliant throughout this whole Khurvin debacle. She's gone above and beyond the call of duty, even sending me food parcels. Goodness knows what she thought I was going to do without them; Adam mentioned something about tuna and crisps. I wonder if I should be insulted. Probably not, but maybe I should try and take the opportunity to show her that my culinary skills really aren't that bad.

Now, as I stand on the Grid, having returned after my brief suspension, I find her working late. I allow myself to entertain the thought that perhaps she is waiting for me. It's possible I'm imagining it but I thought I detected a brief frisson of interest from her on the bus, when she passed me that memory stick. When our hands touched there was definitely something in the air; it was electric.

As her fingers brushed mine, I let myself imagine what it would be like to throw caution to the wind and kiss her; to feel her soft lips underneath mine. I shook myself out of it though, turning the conversation to Adam, which didn't seem to go down to well. It broke the connection between us which, although it pains me, was probably for the best. How can I be sure? And what can I do about it anyway?

"It's good to have you back," she greets.

"It's good to be back," I reply. She looks like she wants to say something but she doesn't and I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to fill the silence. "I'd better get up to speed; lots of files to read. Wouldn't want to miss anything." She nods and feeling the need to look after her in some way, I say, "don't work too late."

I'm almost at my office door when I hear her call to me. "I'll get the last bus!" I turn and she looks nervous, did she… was that some kind of veiled invitation? I don't know how to respond in that moment so I flash a smile and taking off my jacket, I enter my office, sitting down.

I watch her through the blinds as she refocuses her attention on the job at hand, and I smile. This is where I'm meant to be. With her by my side.

* * *

I get through three files before movement out on the Grid catches my attention. Ruth is stood behind her desk, getting ready to leave. I let the file in my hand land back on the desk, stand and exit my office.

"You off?" I enquire, approaching her.

"Yeah," she nods.

"At least it's not raining tonight," I comment. "Which reminds me, I must provide you with specially designed waterproofing equipment. Standard field officer issue." I show her my umbrella. "You see, you press this button here and…"

My umbrella pops opens and Ruth smiles, shaking her head. "Thanks for the advice," she replies. "I'll bear it in mind. Although, then there'd be no-reason for some weirdo to stop and offer me a lift."

I go out on a limb. "Perhaps I could rectify my oversight in that department; as I've probably caused you to miss the last bus?"

Ruth looks at her watch. "I could still make it," she tells me, with a glint of something in her eye. "If I ran."

I look at her shoes. "Hardly suitable footwear for running."

"True," she admits and I know I've won. "Okay," she relents. "Are you ready to go now or did you want to work for a bit longer?"

"We can go now; the paperwork will still be here in the morning." Suddenly catching up on those files doesn't seem as important; not when up against spending time with Ruth.

I call my driver and arrange for him to be outside in five minutes. Ruth and I share a pod off the Grid, a habit we seem to have unconsciously developed over the past months and make our ways through the corridors.

"Adam mentioned you were spending some time with him and Wes tonight?" Ruth asks as we walk.

"Yes; took him to the dogs."

"The dogs?" She wrinkles her nose at the thought.

"He enjoyed it; got a knack for picking winners too, has young Wesley."

"You're teaching an eight year old to gamble? Isn't that bordering on irresponsible?"

"Possibly, but he's a natural; didn't need much in the way of tuition," I explain.

"Oh, so it was a profitable outing then?"

"It most certainly was." We're approaching the front entrance and I know that if I'm going to make a move it will have to be now, before we get into the car. "I don't suppose you fancy a drink before you go home? My treat."

"From your winnings?" she grins.

"Well… yes but I did want to thank you; for those food parcels you sent. So, what do you say?"

She mulls it over for a few seconds, which seem to me to be the longest seconds of my life.

"Okay," she finally agrees and I pray that my relief isn't visible. "But not The George," she insists as we leave the building. "I think Zaf and Jo were heading there and I'd rather not bump into them."

"Ashamed to be seen with me?" I tease.

"Not at all," she protests, although I don't quite believe her. "I'd just rather go somewhere quiet where we won't be interrupted or gawked at."

"I know just the place," I tell her, opening the car door before giving my driver the destination.

* * *

Twenty minutes later we arrive at our destination; a little pub not far Ruth's house. I send my driver home, before leading Ruth inside. Thankfully it's not too busy.

"I've never been in here," she comments as she looks around and takes it in.

"What would you like?" I ask.

"Red wine please." I direct her to a table in the back corner of the pub away from the rest of the customers whilst I order our drinks. A few minutes later I arrive at the table and place her drink down in front of her. I sit myself opposite her and she proposes a toast. "To your reinstatement."

I clink my glass with hers. "To my reinstatement." I take a sip. "Thank you for everything you did to clear my name… and for the food."

"It was nothing. It's sometimes easier to cook for two."

"Yes," I agree. "I'll have to return the favour one day; and prove that I live on more than just tuna and crisps." I raise my eyebrow at her, as I confront her with Adam's tale. I still can't believe she thinks me incapable to such an extent.

"Well, how am I to know if you cook or not?" she replies indignantly. "Recently you've been eating the majority of your meals from the canteen."

She's been keeping an eye on my eating habits. Hmmm, interesting. I wonder what else she's been observing. She blushes, perhaps realising that she's given too much away. "I don't particularly like eating alone." The statement is loaded, a response to hers about not cooking for one, and she knows it.

Ruth doesn't answer, choosing instead to take a rather large sip of her wine. "So, how did you fill your days on suspension?" she asks me.

"Besides avoiding those talentless goons Juliet sent to keep an eye on me you mean?"

"You should be honoured that she deemed you a worthy use of the man power and resources."

"I might've considered it, if they'd been half decent."

Ruth smiles to herself and I'm intrigued by what she's thinking. "What?"

"You should have seen her face when she found out you'd slipped your tail!"

I allow myself a small smile too. "I can imagine."

Ruth continues to think and I see her smile fade. "Oh, she makes me so angry! Suspending you like that. Treacherous little… eurgh! Especially after you protected her after the whole Yazdi fiasco."

Her outburst surprises me. "I hope you didn't let her see your anger."

"Not outright, no. But I made it pretty clear that I didn't agree with her actions."

I try to imagine what that would look like; Ruth being unhelpful and snarky. I think I'd like to see that, but not directed at me. "Thank you for defending me," I say, "although I'm not sure what I've done to deserve that kind of loyalty."

She gives me a look that says, 'are you serious?' before launching into a monologue. "Harry, you are principled and honourable. Yes, you've held people's lives in your hands and have to make some awful decisions but you made those decisions based on what you believed to be right and out of loyalty to and love for your country. You're a good man Harry."

I look down; I'm not use to such praise. Men don't tend to speak to each other like that and well, the women in my life haven't exactly thought highly enough of me to shower me with praise.

She senses my scepticism. "I mean it Harry. Being on the Grid without you…" she toys with the stem of her wine glass, "…it felt wrong."

Before I even realise what I'm doing, I slide my hand across the table and place it across hers. Her words have empowered me to try and advance our relationship, even slightly. I half expect her to her to pull away but she doesn't. In fact, she turns her hand over underneath mine and interlaces our fingers. I smile at her and she smiles back. God I feel like a teenager on his first date. We sit like that for a few minutes until the landlord calls last orders, at which point we reluctantly let go of each other, finish our drinks and head out into the night.

"I know I'm somewhat of a 'weirdo' but will you allow me to walk you home? I know you can probably take care of yourself but it's late and I'd feel a lot happier if-"

"I'd love you to walk me home," she replies.

I offer her my arm and she links hers through it as we walk away.

* * *

It's a bad idea to walk. We are half way there when the sky suddenly clouds over and the heavens open. We speed up a little but it's not enough; by the time we arrive at Ruth's front door we are soaked.

"Where's your specially designed waterproofing equipment?" she quips as we huddle near the door to shelter as much as we can while Ruth find her keys.

"Left it on your desk," I admit, as she finally gets the door unlocked. She steps inside.

"Come on in out of the rain," she invites. "You can dry off and then call a cab." I step over the threshold and begin to unbutton my coat. "I won't be a second!" she calls, taking the stairs two at a time. Momentarily, she reappears, two towels in her hands. She hands one to me.

"Thanks," I say, accepting the proffered item gratefully. In return she takes my coat and hangs it up. She strips off her light jacket and hangs it alongside my coat on the bannister. It's obviously not made for rain because the water has soaked through completely, causing her top to cling, very nicely in my opinion, to her womanly figure.

I can't help but stare and she blushes profusely as she realises just how tightly her top is clinging to her. "I'll…err just…." She moves to leave but not wanting her to run from me, I grab her hand. "Harry!" she protests as I step closer to her,

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you but you're a very beautiful woman and well, I'm only a man after all…"

"Y-y-you think I'm beautiful?" she asks, her voice thick with wonder.

"Very much so," I confirm and, as my eyes find hers, I lean down and capture her lips with my own. She responds immediately and our first kiss is soft and gentle, with a hint of passion. I cup her face and she brings her hands up to rest on my chest. This kiss comes to its natural conclusion after a couple of minutes and I smile down at her as she pulls away.

"Was that okay?" I ask, nervous beyond belief that she's going to decide actually that no it wasn't and chuck me out on my ear.

"Mmm. Very nice."

I'm unsure if she's talking about the action of me kissing her or the kiss itself so I have to clarify, "You didn't mind that I… that I kissed you?"

"Not at all. I can't say I was expecting it, but I enjoyed it."

I lean in. "So you wouldn't mind if I did it again?"

She looks me straight in the eye. "Why don't you find out?" She leaves the statement hanging and walks into the living room.

Never one to back down from a challenge I follow her, finding her just inside the doorway. I stalk towards her and back her up against the wall. This time our kiss is full of passion; tongues duelling and hands wandering. And as I slide my hand underneath her still wet shirt and grasp at her lace covered breast, I offer up a silent thank you to 'Jimmy's Lass'; tonight has been a profitable night in more ways than one.


End file.
